


Aria

by lilithiumwords



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Angst, Ballet, Collaboration, Dancing, Historical References, M/M, Magic, Operas, Slow Burn, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22080946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords
Summary: Yuuri, the crown prince of the cranes, is stolen from his homeland and taken to the world of humans. There, he learns to live, and to love, and to dance.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 32
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayabai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayabai/gifts).



> A collaboration with Aya. Thank you so much, my dear, for staying with me for this long endeavor, while we both struggled and fretted. You are amazing, and your art is amazing, and I adore you.
> 
> This was intended as our collaboration for the [Viktuuri Angst Bang 2019](https://viktuuriangstbang.tumblr.com/), but we both became very distracted by real life issues and had to quietly drop out near the end. Thankfully, we are now able to start posting!
> 
> This story will have 3-4 chapters. The art is by Aya, who is amazing and deserves all the love. You can find her on Twitter: [@ayabaiii](https://twitter.com/ayabaiii) and Tumblr: [@ayabaiii](https://ayabaiii.tumblr.com/).
> 
> _Aria_ came from a fusion of our desires, when we started the angst bang: Aya wanted to do Snow Maiden, and I wanted to do Phantom of the Opera. What came from the combination of these ideas is rather unlike both, but I'm very happy with this story, and I hope you enjoy it to the end.

Above the cold and distant sea, a crane glides through the air, taking advantage of a high wind to make its way to a small island. The hard, rocky beach does not deter the creature as he lands, his long white wings tipped in black folding against his slim body. The crane looks across the sea with dark eyes, its red crown wreathed in something like gold. He studies the world before him with a keen gaze, watchful and patient.

On the horizon, human warships guard the borders of Japan, the home of his homeland. In the far distance to the north lay more ships; all of them are enemies as far as the crane is concerned. Not that he considers the Japanese ships his allies, but perhaps they are more so than the ones from the north. Foreigners that speak in a strange tongue, who look nothing like his people, nor even the humans of Japan.

It is nearly spring, and the war is moving closer to his home. He does not like the necessity of spying on the humans' conflict. He would rather leave them to their wars, but his kingdom is threatened by their guns and torpedos. He knows, vaguely, that the conflict has been simmering for years now, that the foreign ships have come and gone and come again. Many times the protectors of his realm have come to these islands to watch the war. Some have even gone into the human world to listen to rumors and bring back information.

The crane cared little for what news they brought, until he heard that a nest was destroyed by the fighting. Then the humans' conflict became his conflict.

With something like a sigh, the crane extends his long wings and lifts himself to flight once more. He climbs high to the winds, using the darkening clouds as a cover as he makes his way toward the foreign ships. After a time, he spots an island to the east of the ships and flies down to it, landing on the empty sand and straightening.

The feathers shift and become a beautiful cloak lined with black and white feathers, made of a material that no human has ever touched, flowing across his body with a strange, graceful ripple. Where the crane once stood now stands a man, slim with the same dark eyes, a golden crown on his head. His hair is dark like his feathers, yet a single red streak lays hidden behind his ear, almost like a long feather. 

Yuuri steps lightly across the sand, as graceful as his other form, until he can peer past a large rock to look upon the great warship floating in the waters at a distance. He frowns slightly, watching the movements of the humans on the deck. Working in tandem, the humans are working to leave metal contraptions in the water; most likely the bombs Yuuri has heard about in reports. Yuuri does not trust them; they will certainly harm his people if they venture too close. He will have to return home and inform his parents, after he has collected more information. He settles in for a long watch, determined to observe the humans for as long as he can.

He becomes aware of another presence merely a second before a blade touches his throat.

A human's voice speaks in his ear, the language deep and harsh compared to Yuuri's lyrical cradle tongue. Yuuri stiffens and begins to transform, not daring to stay near a human, but suddenly, he finds that he cannot, as his cloak is ripped off him. Yuuri cries out at the loss, reaching up to cover himself and twisting, staring wildly over his shoulder. 

To his horror, he finds a foreign soldier holding his feathered cloak aloft. The human looks at the cloak, then at Yuuri, his pale face shocked as the feathers tremble, unable to fulfill Yuuri's desires. The human's blue eyes lift to the crown on Yuuri's head, and his expression darkens with greed. Before the human can take that, too, Yuuri snatches the crown off his head and flings it upward, where the wind catches it and carries it away to his homeland.

Much to the anger of his captor.

Strong hands seize his arms and force them behind his back, binding them with leather that cuts into his skin. The human speaks to him again, but Yuuri refuses to understand the words. He turns his face away, biting down on his tongue, and mourns his people, who will never know what happened to him. He dreads the thought of them coming here to search for him, only to be caught unaware by the foreign military's traps.

A hand wrenches his head back, the foreign words threatening and foul. He sees the feathers of his cloak out of the corner of his eye, but they are separated, now; Yuuri cannot become himself again. He closes his eyes in resignation.

He knows that he is caught.

~*~

Yuuri is dragged onto one of those terrible ships. His dignity does not allow him to scream, but he glares the entire time at the soldier taking him away, refusing to move when he is pushed and standing his ground when he can. Nevertheless, the soldier manages to force him aboard and into a small, dark room, where he chains Yuuri to the wall and leaves him there.

Yuuri remains alone for days and days. His only moments of light are when the soldier brings him food, as the room has no windows, and the door opens to no other human. At first, Yuuri refuses to eat, but the human threatens him with violence, cursing him until Yuuri grudgingly eats the meals. He does so only so that he may survive and escape. The second he gets his hands on his cloak, he can leave.

Yet his cloak is gone. His crown has been returned to his people, but Yuuri has not seen his cloak at all. The soldier never brings it to him, and the connection Yuuri has to the cloak is dulled by the steel around him. He thinks of asking, but he never bothers to voice the words. The soldier does not deserve his language, and Yuuri does not care to speak in the foreign tongue, despite learning it quickly.

It is easy to study the human's language, with the gift of magic in Yuuri's ears. The soldier makes it easy for him, too; sometimes, the soldier comes to sit with him, because the voyage takes a long time. He tries to teach Yuuri words, but Yuuri pretends not to understand them. He does, though, and soon he can comprehend most of what the soldier says.

The soldier talks of glory for his family, of gaining wealth beyond his wildest dreams. He talks of showing Yuuri off for crowds of people who will rain riches down upon him and his parents. He tells Yuuri how he will learn all of his secrets and find his treasures, from the crown that flew away to the heaps of gold that Yuuri must have, as a creature of magic.

Yuuri does not bother explaining that any heaps of gold belong to his parents and sister more than him. Nor does he have any use for money, anyway. The crown is merely a symbol of his status. To his people, gold is decoration, not something to use for barter and trade. Nothing in Yuuri's homeland will make this man rich, because it all will fade to dust the second a human touches the treasures within.

Such pride will only lead to ruin.

The soldier speaks of places and people that Yuuri does not know. Russia. Nikiforov. St. Petersburg. Military. Opera. Family. None of them mean anything except the last word, and that is the one that Yuuri holds close to his heart, reminding him that he must survive and return home.

No matter how far he must fly.

~*~

When Yuuri sees the sky again, the view is different than what he has always known.

Gone is the ocean of his childhood. Gone are the islands where he grew to be a man; instead in their place is a city of men, with buildings of stone and glass, so unlike the delicate nests and golden roosts of his people. The soldier takes him from the ship in the cover of night, alone, which makes Yuuri wonder if the soldier has brought him here without permission. He only gets a glimpse of the city before the soldier pushes him into a wooden carriage, bound to horses. Yuuri curls himself into the corner of the carriage, as far away from the soldier as possible, before turning his attention to the window.

In the soldier's lap is a large trunk with a lock. Yuuri twitches with the urge to tear into it. His cloak, surely...

Anxious to be in an unknown place, Yuuri twitches the curtain aside, just enough to look outside. Humans, everywhere, in strange clothing so unlike the humans of Japan. He watches them for a time, while the soldier opposite him prattles on about the wonders of a transforming man. Yuuri can almost feel the soldier's excitement and fear at revealing Yuuri's existence, as well as the truth of magic in the world. Magic! What glory this magical creature will bring to his family!

Yuuri wants to show him magic -- the kind he would never forget.

The carriage pulls up in front of a large building, lit up from the inside. Streams of humans are leaving the building, and in the noise they make, it is easy for the soldier to drag Yuuri inside through one of the doors. The humans leaving are dressed in finery, and some of them whisper to each other as the soldier brings Yuuri into the building and toward a lesser populated hallway. Yuuri slows as he enters the vast front hallway, which is plated in gold and decorated beautifully. At the edges of the luster, though, lay signs of neglect: peeling wallpaper, tarnished metals, dust in the corners. The vision haunts him, for as long as he sees it, until the soldier takes him away.

They pass a barrier guarded by men in uniforms and climb several flights of stairs. Here, the hallways are empty of humans in their finery, but filled with with humans in much less ostentatious clothing; likely servants or workers of this fortress. At last, Yuuri is pushed into a large, circular room, with windows that look down upon a platform and rows and rows of seats. 

An older man stands behind a large desk. Yuuri meets his blue eyes, frowning, before glancing around the room suspiciously. He gives his captor a glare before moving to one of the windows to look upon the platform, where several humans are cleaning. He does not know what to make of this place; it must be a fortress of some sort, meant to keep him as a prison. He wonders if he and his cloak will be put on display on that platform, and revulsion spreads through him.

He wants to go _home._

The soldier launches into his story, telling the old man everything about Yuuri's capture and the truth of his other self. When the soldier sets down the box and opens it with a tiny silver key, Yuuri's cloak gleams under the lamplight. Yuuri twitches when the soldier yanks it out of the box and holds it up for the older man to view. He itches to cross the room and protect his cloak from cloying human hands.

"I saw him," the soldier says excitedly.

"A boy who can change into a crane," the old man says, disbelieving. He eyes the soldier as if he has gone mad, which makes Yuuri hide a smirk. If he can make the soldier seem foolish... "Very well. Show me."

The soldier turns to Yuuri with a glint in his eye. He approaches, and Yuuri does nothing. Instead he keeps his eyes on the old man as the soldier throws the cloak around Yuuri's shoulders with a flourish and steps aside, holding out his hands to show off his prize.

Yuuri stands alone, his cloak limp against his body, as if the magic never existed. The soldier stares at him in shock. The old man observes them for a moment, before he lets out a deep sigh of disappointment.

"You foolish boy. You kidnapped our enemy over a drunken hallucination? Get out, and take this creature with you," the old man snaps, pointing at the door.

"But he is truly a crane! I saw it with my own eyes, Father! You!" the soldier cries, taking Yuuri by the shoulders and shaking him. "Change! Change back, now!"

Yuuri only glares at him, which makes the soldier's face darken in rage.

"Enough!" shouts the old man. "I care not what you do with him. Put him to work with the stage hands, lest the city guards come to question us if he leaves." He heaves a sigh. "You are an embarrassment to this family. Your brother never came up with such wild tales."

The soldier's expression twists into something ugly. "Don't bring up Viktor!"

"He is far better a son than you!" The words ring in the silence, while the soldier's face turns white. The old man shakes his head. "Just get out."

Yuuri clutches his cloak a little tighter and hurries toward the door. The soldier follows him, too stunned to disobey his father. Yuuri tenses in anticipation of running, of transforming as soon as he is out of the old man's sight and flying away. Yet when they reach the hallway, Yuuri cries out when the soldier rips his cloak from him once more.

" _No! Give it back!_ " Yuuri begs in his own tongue, grasping for his cloak, but the soldier shoves him away and shakes the cloak at him. Yuuri watches the feathers sway across the fabric anxiously, afraid that the soldier will tear them off. 

"You tricked me," the soldier says, glowering at Yuuri, who meets his gaze with a scowl and says nothing in reply. The soldier fumes, then abruptly wraps up the cloak and shoves it in his bag. Yuuri winces as the feathers are crumpled, feeling it on his own body like nails scraping across his skin. "I shall prove it to him. You will change for him, and until you do, this is _mine_."

"No," Yuuri says, stepping forward abruptly. He pushes against the soldier's chest and turns sharply on his foot, grabbing the cloak from under the soldier's arm and yanking. Yet the soldier holds on tightly, and the instant Yuuri feels a rip, he freezes. The momentary pause allows the soldier to take his cloak again, crowing in triumph.

"Know your place," the soldier says, a vicious sneer on his face. Overcome with desperation, Yuuri grabs for his cloak, snarling. The soldier turns on his heel and runs, his face paling with fright. Yuuri takes one step after him and falters as he registers the pain in his chest.

The adrenaline fades. Yuuri falls to his knees in the hallway, clutching his chest in agony. A single rip, and Yuuri felt it in his bones -- and in that terrible moment, he felt something else, too. A different rip, something deeper and more meaningful, but in the connection between him and his cloak. He begins to panic.

If his cloak is torn, Yuuri will feel it as if the injury is his own. If his cloak is destroyed... then will Yuuri, too, be destroyed?

Yuuri hears footsteps from behind him, and quickly he rises to his feet and takes off running. He can no longer feel his cloak, and he dares not wait around for the soldier to imprison him again. He spots a darkened stairway nearby and flees upwards, finding himself in a long hallway of closed doors. Some of the doors are locked, but one falls open at Yuuri's touch, as if to invite him to hide. Yuuri does so gladly, disappearing into the room without a backwards glance. At the back of the room, dark and full of stale air, is a lone door partly hidden behind a stack of tall boxes. Yuuri slips through the door as quietly as possible.

He finds himself in a maze of rafters, hallways, rope, and piles of boxes covered in dust. An attic of sorts, high in the fortress yet far from the humans' attention. The denizens of this place have not walked these halls in quite some time, meaning that Yuuri is alone. The relief of that thought sends Yuuri sinking down to his knees, breathing harshly in the silence. He can hear voices below him, the sounds carried up to his ears, but the humans are far away and cannot sense him.

The soldier cannot find him here, not unless he searches very hard, and Yuuri cannot hear any footsteps nearby. He spots a large box and, as quietly as he can, pushes it against the floor until it sits in front of the door to his refuge. When he is done with the exertion, he curls up on the floor in the dust and dirt, rocking a little as he struggles to contain his own fear.

He is safe... he thinks.

He tries to feel his cloak, but the connection is weak. The darkness around him presses into his mind, reminding him of his failure to escape, to protect his cloak... his sense of self. He wonders if he will be able to fly when he puts the cloak back on...

If he ever sees it again.

~*~

For hours, Yuuri hides in the darkened rafters of his new prison. He hears the soldier hunting for him, people running through the hallways below in search of him, but none of the humans venture into the dusty halls above them. Eventually, his exhaustion drives him to sleep.

He wakes to silence. The lights below his refuge have dimmed, and the voices are gone. Warily, Yuuri rises and prowls around the rafters for a while, until he finds a window that looks over the city. The streets have turned as dark as the building, and the humans are all but gone. Likely returned to their homes for sleep and food.

Yuuri's stomach growls, and he flinches. Fortifying himself, he sets off to explore.

The building is empty save for a few drowsy guards. Not even the soldier or his father remain. Yuuri finds the old man's office again, but to his dismay, the door is locked. Disgruntled, Yuuri turns his attention to the guards, wondering if he should slip past them and go into the city.

No. Not without his cloak. For now, Yuuri will wait for the soldier's return. Then he will retrieve his cloak, no matter what it takes. If he dies in the attempt, then so be it; he is prepared to give up his life. He will watch from his new refuge for now and wait for the perfect opportunity to ambush his captor. Hopefully he can steal a weapon from somewhere in this place.

For now, to see to his own needs. Surely this fortress must have a kitchen...

~*~

Fortunately for Yuuri's stomach, the fortress does have a kitchen, and washrooms as well. Yet as Yuuri explores, he realizes his mistake. This building is not, in fact, a fortress at all, but a theater.

This Yuuri realizes when he wakes the next day and hears voices below. He rises from his nest of old blankets that he stole from a closet and creeps to one of the rafters that overlooks the platform below. There he sees humans in practice for some kind of performance. For a few seconds, Yuuri only stares, until comprehension hits him. He is embarrassed at his own foolishness, for thinking this building anything else. In the morning light, after panic and fear have faded, the truth is obvious.

So why did his captor bring him here and not to a real prison?

Yuuri waits throughout the next few days, wary. The practices end in the afternoon, several of the humans leaving, but others remain, setting up displays on the stage and cleaning the theater. On some nights, the humans perform for large crowds; those nights Yuuri spends in his nest, hiding away from the noise, always fearful of someone finding him.

He spots the soldier a few times, furiously cornering people to question them, while others under the soldier's command come and go. Still none come to his hiding place. For the first time in weeks, Yuuri feels safe.

He sets himself to watching, so that he may understand his enemies. Sometimes he watches from the rafters, but other times, he lurks in the shadowy hallways, hoping to overhear conversations or find the soldier alone. Over the course of the next few days, he learns quite a bit of useful information.

The soldier, whose name is Sergei Nikiforov, is the son of the owner of the theater, or opera house as the humans call it. The old man is called Lord Nikiforov, someone of nobility. Yuuri gives that piece of information only a passing thought; this country must be a kingdom, and Yuuri is in no hurry to greet its monarchy and their military. No doubt the nobility of this realm is different compared to his own kingdom.

Every day, Lord Nikiforov comes out to watch the practices and performances, often giving criticism to the singers and dancers. He seems particularly hard on his son, who returns every day to search for Yuuri, much to Lord Nikiforov's frustration.

"The foreigner is gone!" Lord Nikiforov scowls down at his son, four days into Yuuri's imprisonment. "Give it up, boy. You best be glad that I have not reported your mistake to your superiors for your idiotic stunt."

"He cannot be gone!" the soldier protests angrily. "I still have his magical cloak!"

"Enough with your tall tales!" 

The outburst silences them both for a moment, while father and son glare at each other. Yuuri watches from the shadows of a nearby hallway, as still as the darkness. He happened upon them as he was working to hide the entrance to his refuge, but thankfully, the humans have not noticed him. To Yuuri's annoyance, he left the knife he found in the kitchen upstairs.

"Enough," says Lord Nikiforov with finality. "Do not return and interrupt my work again. You will travel to the manor and take up your duties overseeing the house. Your mother can barely handle the household on her own, with her illness as it is, so you will assist her. Once your brother returns from school, he will want to see you."

"I don't want to see him," the soldier says sullenly, but he silences himself at a sharp look from his father. "Fine. But if you see the foreigner --"

"Then I shall have him handled, and you will not be bothered by his absence any longer. Is that understood, boy?"

Yuuri stiffens. He doubts that 'handling' him will be anything but swift violence and death. He waits until the old man walks away, ending the conversation, but to his frustration, the soldier follows his father into the theater.

Yuuri's chance will not be today, it seems. With a small sigh, Yuuri returns to his task. Once the doorway to his refuge is hidden, then Yuuri will be able to rest without waking every hour. So far, the humans have not noticed that he is eating their food and using their washrooms, nor that he has stolen a few pieces of clothing here and there. The attic contains several boxes of old clothing, likely for performances, but they are clean, if Yuuri disregards the faint smell of disuse. 

All while he waits for that opportune moment, Yuuri tries to reach out to his cloak. Yet the connection is dulled with something like pain. While Yuuri can tell that the cloak is safe and whole, save for the small rip the soldier caused, he cannot tell where it is, nor how far from him it has been hidden. He cannot even tell the direction of its location.

He just has to wait. Soon, he will have his chance, and he will find his cloak again.

~*~

Yuuri's opportunity comes two weeks later.

He has not idled in this time. Without interaction with other people, Yuuri has grown bored. To deal with that boredom, he has begun practicing every bit of training he went through as a youth. He spends hours toning his body, in anticipation of the battle he will face when he corners the soldier. The rest of the time he spends watching the humans, coming to understand the intricacies of their language, the ways they live their lives, and how none of them seem to have any inkling of magic.

They are magicless creatures. Yuuri, whose life has been infused with magic since he was born, whose people are born from magic's grace, does not understand how they can live without the gift of magic. These humans live sad, lonely lives, shortened and full of anger. They take out their misery on each other, through cunning subterfuge and outright hatred; and other days, they are kind. Magic is but a myth to them.

Yet they want to believe in magic all the same. Their performances are full of fantasy, starlight, and mysteries of old; yet the effects of the magic are only felt in words and song, in flashes of light and subtle movement behind the dancers. Yuuri has to give their imagination some credit, but he finds himself mourning their lack of magic all the same. He thinks he understands these humans a little better, now.

Legend says that humans forsook magic a long time ago, then forgot that they could use it. Yet their love for magic never waned. Magic is in their stories, their dreams, their songs; yet despite their loss, Yuuri would never imagine giving them magic to make up for their deficit.

He finds himself angry at their ignorance, at the soldier's greed. How dare they steal from him? How dare they take what they did not earn?

These thoughts leave Yuuri stewing as the days grow longer, and the weather outside begins to warm. Spring is coming, and every day that Yuuri sits beside his window that overlooks the city, he thinks wistfully of home, of the flowers that would grow in the kingdom, and the deep, clear lakes where his people would sing and dance.

Yet one day, the weather turns furiously cold, blowing in a sudden snowstorm. Yuuri wakes to gleaming white outside his window, while far below, the humans are excited by the rare occurrence.

And something else, as well. Yuuri hears a rumor when he passes over the stage, and he pauses at the delighted voice.

"They say he returned yesterday morn, and he will come to visit the opera house," announces one of the dancers to her friends, some of them blushing or gasping in delight. Yuuri strains to hear more, but the giggling humans wander off.

Yuuri watches them, frowning. Who will visit? The soldier has not returned, nor has Yuuri's cloak, to his fury. He wonders if the soldier will come back today; he viciously hopes so. Since his escape, he has stolen a second knife from the kitchens. He has taken to carrying both with him at all times, and he looks forward to using them on the soldier who took his cloak.

He prowls the hallways in silence after that, hunting, always avoiding the humans who venture near him. None of them are the soldier, nor even the old man. After hours pass, Yuuri finds himself frustrated and tired, and he turns away to retreat to his refuge.

In the hallway near the old man's office, Yuuri sees _him._

He would recognize that pale hair anywhere. Yuuri's heart doubles its beat, as a rush of excitement and fear thrum through him. The soldier is alone; Yuuri does not have a better chance.

He walks on silent feet, as graceful as his other form, until he is right behind the soldier. Then, showing that his instincts are not as poor as his decision-making skills, the soldier pauses in the middle of the hallway.

Yuuri brings up the knife against the soldier's throat and leans in close. "Tell me where my cloak is," he whispers in the soldier's tongue. Against him, the soldier goes still, his heart beating fast beneath Yuuri's fingers, so close to his skin.

Then the soldier moves, and Yuuri finds himself embroiled in battle.

A strong hand grabs his wrist, making Yuuri drop the knife in surprise. He curses his own idiocy and shoves at the soldier's shoulder, but another hand catches him and pushes him up against the nearest wall. Yuuri thrashes, lifting his leg and hooking it around the soldier's waist, then pushing with all his might.

They roll to the floor. Yuuri grapples for dominance, but the soldier is _strong._ Yet Yuuri is strong as well, and he has been trained from birth, unlike this human who merely trained for a few years with his military. He quickly rolls them over and pulls the second knife from his belt, raising it in threat. The soldier grabs his hand once more, but Yuuri holds onto the knife, determined to defeat his enemy.

"What are you doing?" the soldier demands, in an unfamiliar voice. Yuuri pays him no mind.

"Surrender," Yuuri commands, and that is when he gets a good look at the soldier's face. He freezes in disbelief, and in that moment, the man beneath him knocks away the second knife, sending it spinning across the floor. The man catches sight of his expression and ceases his movements, blue eyes widening.

The man beneath him is a stranger. He has the same eyes and pale hair as the soldier, but his hair is a little longer, sweeping over one eye. He looks older and a bit different, and his clothes are neater than the soldier's, who always wears either his military uniform or slovenly outfits. This man is dressed in a tidy suit made of fine materials. His hat has been knocked aside, and he looks alert, eyeing Yuuri's face in consideration. Yuuri realizes that this must be the mysterious brother, the other son of the old man.

"I am sorry," Yuuri blurts out, then gracefully leaps up, backing away from the stranger. He can feel panic begin to take him over; he just assaulted an ordinary person. "I, um... I thought you were someone else. I'm sorry." He turns to flee, but he is stopped by the man sitting up.

"Wait," calls the man, and something in his voice makes Yuuri go still again. With a small grimace, the man stands up, holding up a hand to Yuuri as if to convince him that he is not dangerous. Of course he is not -- Yuuri is the one who assaulted him. Yuuri watches him in fear, but the man only smiles at him. As if Yuuri had not just attacked him. "It's alright. You need not fear my reaction. I imagine you mean my brother?"

The stranger's eyes are gentle, of all things. After Yuuri pulled a knife on him not once, but _twice_. What a strange human, to look upon him in such a way. Yuuri trembles slightly, not expecting such a reaction. He is different from these humans, and not one has ever extended kindness to him.

"Yes," Yuuri whispers, despite knowing he should run.

"Then I daresay I would have deserved it, if I were him," says the man with a small chuckle. "Yet I am not, so there is no harm done. You can call me Viktor." Then he waits, and Yuuri realizes that the man wants his name. He bites his lip, debating what to say. Not even the soldier asked for his name; hence why Yuuri refuses to call him anything but 'soldier.'

"Yuuri," he finally says. "Your brother... he stole something from me. I thought you were him, and..." He can feel his panic cresting, bringing something like tears to his eyes. All over a human that he did not mean to hurt. "I am sorry," he whispers.

Viktor looks briefly alarmed by the tears. "Please, I know my brother, and I know that he is given to causing grief for any he meets. I will forgive this trespass, if you but explain my brother's actions to me, so that I may rectify them. It is my duty, as the elder."

In a rush of memory, Yuuri is drawn back to his home, to his sister who stood in front of him so many times and said, "I am the elder, so take it up with me. No need to bother my brother about it."

He misses her, suddenly and fiercely, and the yearning makes the tears in his eyes spill over. He sags against the wall, exhausted. Ah, but he is _lonely._ He has always been surrounded by his family and court until now. Yuuri wonders how they are doing without him, if they miss him as much as he misses them, then shakes himself of the feeling. Perhaps this brother, who seems kinder than the soldier and their father, will treat him fairly, as neither of them have done.

"I am not from your country," Yuuri says carefully. Speaking in this foreign tongue is strange to him; he has not practiced aloud, only absorbed what he has heard. He hopes that Viktor understands him. Viktor nods after a moment, his keen eyes roaming over Yuuri's features. "I was brought here by your brother. He kidnapped me and took me away, while he was warring with my homeland."

Viktor's face turns white at the words. "He did _what_?"

Yuuri sighs tiredly. "I know I do not have proof, but --"

"No, I believe you," Viktor tells him. He reaches up to rub a finger over his lips in contemplation, eyes narrowed. Standing there, Yuuri realizes that Viktor is slightly taller than him, and broader as well. Despite the fierceness with which Viktor fought earlier, he seems merely a member of the nobility. A scholar? And yet he fought with such power and grace...

Yuuri shakes the inappropriate thoughts from his mind and focuses on what Viktor is saying.

"I only returned from abroad yesterday, yet the whole household is filled with talk of my brother's anger over a foreigner who supposedly ran away from him, not long after he returned from fighting in our war with Japan. Yet it seems you were merely working here to fill the time," Viktor sighs. Yuuri blinks at the misconception, but he does not correct Viktor. Better to let him think that Yuuri is living here with permission than not.

"I did not run," Yuuri says, a flare of indignation flashing through him. "He _took me_ from my homeland, after stealing something irreplaceable from me. I stayed so that I could confront him and take back what is mine, and _go home._ "

Viktor nods slowly, studying Yuuri with keen eyes. There is nothing of the soldier's greed and anger in him. "And this item he stole? What was it?"

Yuuri hesitates. His cloak has no price, and he cannot explain the magic of it. Yet Viktor has been nothing but kind to him, despite Yuuri's actions. He takes a deep breath to settle himself. "A cloak made of white and black feathers. It is a legacy of my family, and I need its safe return."

Viktor hums in contemplation. He does not seem bothered by the strangeness of Yuuri's possession; in fact, he seems enthralled with Yuuri, his eyes rarely leaving Yuuri's face. "If my brother has taken your cloak, then it would be at the family manor. I will go and search for it, and if I find it there, I will bring it back to you." He glances down the hallway, then back at Yuuri, eyes trailing down his body, and Yuuri stiffens at the look. "Forgive my impoliteness, but have they given you your paycheck? Those clothes look quite old."

Yuuri stares. Paycheck? He considers what to say for a moment. He is too caught up with the idea that Viktor will find his cloak and bring it to him. Does he dare trust this human...? "They have not, no."

Viktor frowns at that. "That will not do. I will have that rectified at once. Do you have an address I can send it to?"

"No, nowhere," Yuuri says, starting to feel miserable. Viktor gives him an alarmed look, and Yuuri looks away. Despite his wariness, he cannot help but say, "I have been staying here."

"Here?" Viktor repeats, stunned. "I suppose in the old dormitories in the basement? That might do until you can return home... Hm, for now, let me take care of your paycheck. I will have your payment delivered to the dormitory for the meantime. Father has no reason to complain after what my brother did," Viktor scoffs. He pulls out a small notebook from inside his coat and jots down a few notes, while Yuuri stares at him blankly, bewildered.

Viktor means to pay him? On top of bringing his cloak back...

Well. Human money means little to him, but perhaps it will become useful later. 

"Once I return your cloak, then I will find a boat that will take you home. Is that agreeable?" Viktor asks. Yuuri nods cautiously, not bothering to mention that he will be long gone before Viktor even thinks about a boat, and Viktor rewards him with a beatific smile.

"Excellent! Carry on with your work, dear Yuuri, and I will handle the rest. And please..." Viktor steps closer abruptly, making Yuuri tense in fear (anticipation?). Viktor smiles down at him, reaching up as if to touch his face, then setting his hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "Do not look badly upon my family for my brother's actions. He is a troubled boy, for all that he has tried to become a man. If you have need of anything else, do send me a letter with your troubles."

Yuuri blinks up at him, his heart beating strangely fast. He will never send such a letter; he cannot write in this man's language, but he appreciates the gesture. "O-okay. Thank you... Viktor."

Viktor beams at the sound of his name in Yuuri's accent, before stepping back and giving a low bow. Yuuri finds himself charmed by Viktor's manners. After a moment, Yuuri bows as well, as if Viktor was a lord of his homeland. He watches Viktor stride away with something like awe, as well as no little confusion as to what happened.

For the first time in over a month, he feels hope.

When he is certain that Viktor has left, Yuuri gathers his knives and flees back to his refuge, crossing the rafters quickly until he reaches his window that overlooks the city. He pushes the window open, despite the cold outside, and leans out to look upon the street below. He waits patiently, and he is rewarded with the sight of Viktor walking out of the building to a carriage waiting on the cobblestone. He holds his breath.

Viktor pauses at the carriage and looks over his shoulder. Surely he cannot see Yuuri, yet for but an instant, their eyes seem to meet. Viktor smiles, something new and interesting, then climbs into his carriage and rides away.

Yuuri sits for a long time at the window afterward, waiting.

~*~

He waits a day, and a day becomes two.

Then a week. Then a month. Then, Yuuri begins to accept that Viktor is not returning for him, and that he should not have trusted a human.

Yet in that first week, when Yuuri spent every day pressed to the window, watching for Viktor's carriage, Viktor did keep one part of his promise. He gave Yuuri payment for his imagined work.

That first night after Viktor (and what kind of life did Yuuri lead, to think of it as 'before Viktor' and 'after Viktor'?), Yuuri crept downstairs and wandered the lower floors until he found the dormitories that Viktor had mentioned. The two rooms were large and filled with beds and small wardrobes, curtains between each little sleeping area. No one had come into these rooms in a very long time, to judge by the stale air and dusty beds. Yet Yuuri found blankets and pillows in a closet nearby, and he took advantage of its abandonment for his own means.

In order to keep with the lie he told Viktor, Yuuri set up one of the sleeping spaces with the recovered bedclothes and put some of his dusty clothes into the wardrobe, as if he slept there. He chose the bed closest to the door, but behind it if the door opened, so that he may catch anyone unaware if they tried to come into the room while he was inside.

He does not sleep there, though; instead he stays in his refuge upstairs. He does steal some of the blankets for his nest. He even finds a spare mattress and hauls it upstairs one night after the guards have fallen asleep, turning his nest from vaguely comfortable into a place where Yuuri can sleep easily.

Three days after Viktor, when Yuuri remade his nest and stayed curled up in it all day, only to search for sustenance when night fell, a pouch containing human money appeared on the dormitory bed, together with a small note and a key. The note he could not read, but the key was a blessing for Yuuri. After many hours of trying every door he could reach, he found that the key fit at least half of the doors in the opera house, including the dormitory, as well as the hallway to Yuuri's secret hideaway.

For that alone, he could not bring himself to stop trusting Viktor.

After he finds the money and key, Yuuri waits. He stalks the hallways in search of the soldier or Viktor, but neither ever return, not in the days or weeks after Yuuri and Viktor's meeting. He wonders why, if anything happened. His cloak is safe, at least, but he cannot sense its location still. Could something have happened to the soldier? To Viktor? Even old Lord Nikiforov has not been around much lately, and whenever Yuuri spots him below, he seems distracted.

He worries as he waits.

Each day is agony. He is bored, lonely, and unhappy. He thinks so many times of leaving, of finding his way back to Japan without his cloak and living the rest of his life without his wings, but he cannot. Something like a weight has settled over his shoulders, as if the cloak's imprisonment by the soldier means that Yuuri, too, has become imprisoned in this place.

He misses flying so badly. In an effort not to go insane, Yuuri starts watching the performances in the evenings. The stories sometimes confuse him, but Yuuri likes the music the best, out of all of the strange elements of the human operas. The songs soothe an angry part of him, enough that he does not lash out at the humans.

He enjoys one play in particular, about a girl who was born blind and lives secluded away from society. She is then introduced to color and light by a man who spies her sleeping in her garden and falls in love with her. Yuuri particularly likes how the man learns that she is blind: when the man asks for one of the girl's red roses, she hands him a white one instead. Then the man teaches her of color and light, of beauty beyond touch, and she falls in love with him as well. Yet to save her lover, she must leave her secluded garden and learn to see the world again -- and then she does.

The opera gives Yuuri hope, in a way. He is not unaware of the similarities between himself and Iolanta. He has been blind to the people who care for him, to the world outside his home, all of his life. Part of him still cannot accept their love for him, but... now that he is separated from his family and friends, Yuuri is forced to acknowledge how much he relied on them, and how much he took them for granted.

He misses them.

Yet unlike Iolanta, Yuuri cannot take any steps forward to change himself. He is trapped in his garden, separated from color and light and life and love. He can only wait in his own darkness.

He only wishes that he knew what he was waiting for.

~*~

On the last day that _Iolanta_ is performed, two months after Viktor, Yuuri finds out what happened to Viktor and the soldier.

What happens is his own fault: he nearly gets caught. Yuuri was wandering around the dormitory level in the late morning, searching for a new pillow to add to his nest. Some days, the opera house stays empty, save for guards and servants, perhaps once a week. Yuuri often uses the time to refill his food supply and scavenge for anything he can use, from tools to information.

He thought it was a safe day. All morning, the building remained empty, so Yuuri ventured downstairs to explore. And yet, he became trapped.

Not far from the dormitory is another large room that was filled with long mirrors, closets full of brightly colored clothes, and trays of brushes and makeup on tables. This morning, Yuuri finds himself in this room after opening it and expecting a closet. Instead, he is surprised by rows of dresses and costumes, made of silk and linen and satin, so close to the comforts of his own country that he cannot help but draw closer to look at them.

The dresses are beautiful. Some of them Yuuri recognizes as part of _Iolanta_ , and he grows excited, touching the silk with interest. Iolanta was dressed in deep, beautiful blue, a color that reminds Yuuri of the sea. He strokes a finger down the lace in fascination.

Humans have a different idea of gender than cranes do. In Yuuri's homeland, gender is only apparent in the colors of ones' feathers. Status is given to those with the most lustrous feathers, as well as the pairs who perform beautifully in the annual dances. Yuuri, who has never danced at the event before, is renowned only because of his lineage. He is not interesting otherwise; he barely manages to perform his duties without anxiety attacks, let alone with pride and ability. His sister, the crown princess and future leader of their lands, is far more capable. Her gender has no effect on her ability to rule; yet in the human world, it seems gender determines one's place in society.

Yuuri finds it ignorant and crude, for only women to wear dresses, when clothing in his world is limited only by one's skill with creation. He could wear this dress as well as any human woman, and they could wear a man's trousers as well as he could.

He sighs a little and lets go of the beautiful cloth. He needs to move on.

At that moment, Yuuri hears a door opening and dashes behind a tall stack of boxes to hide, his heart racing. He slowly peeks around the corner and spots one of the dancers slipping out of the dressing room, tears rolling down her cheeks. She is wearing her coat and hat, instead of her practice clothes, and she does not have her dance shoes. In a flash Yuuri realizes that she must be leaving the opera house.

He watches her stride away, wondering what pushed her to abandon her dreams as a dancer. He had liked her dancing.

A moment later, Yuuri hears voices out in the hallway, and he goes still. They move closer, and Yuuri looks around frantically, until he spots a small space with a curtain. He jumps inside and yanks the curtain shut, standing close behind it as his heart beats fast in his chest. Outside of his little hiding place, a door opens, and the voices spill into the room.

"I cannot believe the manager wants us to come in on Monday," complains one of the trespassers. Yuuri stiffens, realizing that the dancers have returned.

"Just for an extra practice, Mila," replies one of her friends. 

"If only Viktor were here to make it better!"

The girls sigh in agreement, but for Yuuri, every single nerve in his body lights up in response to Viktor's name. He grips the curtain more tightly. He needs more information, and if he is careful...

"Where is Viktor?" he calls out in the softest voice he can mimic, and the voices go silent, then erupt in laughter.

"Is that you, new girl? You beat us to practice," accuses a girl, snickering at him. "I saw you staring at Viktor last time. Well, he isn't here anymore! He has gone back to school in France."

_France?_ Perhaps another human country. Yuuri wonders if, instead of betraying him, Viktor has been forced back to another realm by necessity. Perhaps that is why Viktor did not return. Maybe he couldn't find the cloak at all.

"When will he come back?" Yuuri ventures to ask.

"As if we would know," retorts another girl. "That's so insensitive to ask, you know. After his brother disappeared in the war, and his mother is on her deathbed. That whole family is cursed. Who knows how long this place will stay open?"

"Natasha!"

"What? It's true!"

Yuuri stands frozen behind the curtain, his mind fixated on the girl's words. _His brother disappeared in the war._ The soldier... was gone? Then what has happened to his cloak?

"Are you okay in there?" asks another voice, more quietly, while the rest of the girls snap at each other.

"I'm fine," Yuuri whispers, then closes his eyes. If the soldier is missing or dead, then Yuuri may never see his cloak again. Viktor obviously could not find it before he returned to his schooling, else he would have brought it to Yuuri. Maybe if Yuuri could leave this place and search for it on his own...

But he cannot imagine leaving. His eyes and hair mark him as different from these humans; they would lock him away as a foreigner. Yet he cannot stay, either.

He realizes he is in shock, thinking about that soldier who is now gone. Yuuri wanted to be the person who destroyed him; but instead, it seems the war took his life. Perhaps he is already dead. Yuuri wants to be happy about that, but he can only feel emptiness, because the soldier is the only tie to his cloak.

The only other people who know about it are Viktor and Lord Nikiforov. Viktor is faraway, now, and Lord Nikiforov would have him killed first.

He has no allies here.

"Just never mind that gossip. We need to get upstairs," insists one of the girls. The others grumble in agreement.

"It's the new girl's fault, anyway!"

"Just go!"

Yuuri wonders how much they dislike this 'new girl,' who has already left the opera house, perhaps even in response to their taunts, then decides it is immaterial. He stays quiet as they stop arguing and ready themselves. Yuuri rustles the curtain once or twice, to mimic them, but remains behind when they leave, one by one, never speaking to him again.

Except one of the girls. Yuuri yelps when he hears a voice outside his curtain.

"Should I wait for you?" asks the first girl who spoke up. Mila, Yuuri remembers.

"It's okay," Yuuri says softly. He just wants to go hide in his nest. "Just... today isn't a good day."

"Oh. Oh! It's okay," Mila says comfortingly, as if realizing something, though what she thinks she understands, Yuuri cannot comprehend. Yuuri can almost see her outline outside the curtain. He wonders at her kindness for her fellow dancer, compared to the other girls' cruelty. "I'll tell the manager that you are going to rest today. I'm going to head upstairs. Do you need anything?"

Yuuri is struck by an idea, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small coin purse, pushing it through the curtain without revealing himself. He is very lucky that his payment from Viktor was already in the dormitory this morning. Despite Viktor's disappearance, the payments have been delivered every week like clockwork.

"I need a few supplies... and I cannot go buy them myself, not like this. Would you get them for me? You can leave them in here."

"Of course," Mila agrees without ever realizing his ruse. Yuuri feels a little guilty for taking advantage of her kindness, but if he can use her for his own means, then he will.

The next day, Yuuri finds the package in the same dressing room. He gathers it after the girls have rushed off to practice and flees upstairs, keeping to the shadows whenever he can. He finally reaches his refuge and retreats to his nest, where he opens his package with cautious glee.

Soap, and several bars of it, with a light floral scent that reminds him of home. A few articles of clothing, simply spun but soft, and most importantly, clean, alongside several small washcloths that Yuuri has no idea what to do with. A pair of dancer's shoes, which Yuuri ignores. Lastly, to Yuuri's surprise, Mila has included the remainder of his paycheck in his pouch, along with a small box wrapped with a golden bow. 

He glances at the note, then tucks it away, and opens the box in interest. Inside, Yuuri finds several rows of dark brown squares with tiny decorations on them, which makes him tilt his head in confusion. He leans down and breathes in the scent, finding it oddly sweet.

Well, the human has no reason to poison him, given she has no idea who he is. Yuuri picks up one of the little bars and bites into it.

A sweet, delicate flavor explodes over his tongue, melting across his taste buds. Yuuri moans a little and swallows, then eats two more of the sweets in rapid succession. He has not tasted something so divine in months. The kitchens supply basic foods, like vegetables and meat, and he steals bottles of wine from their stores. This, though... this is something _new._ He had no idea humans could make something so amazing.

Maybe Mila can get him other foods, too.

He sits by the window for the rest of the day, enjoying one of the little treats every now and then, while drinking from one of the bottles he stole from the kitchens. He watches the streets, which are wet with rain, but Viktor's carriage does not pull up. Not that he expected it to, after the information he learned yesterday.

He finds himself thinking about the soldier and his cruelty, and how he must have deserved his fate. He wonders how the soldier disappeared, and what Viktor thinks of it. Was the soldier injured in a battle with the humans in Japan? Or did Yuuri's people find him and kidnap him in revenge for Yuuri's life? Yuuri may never know.

He wonders about Viktor, and about Lord Nikiforov. Perhaps he should find a way to follow Lord Nikiforov home and search for his cloak himself. Viktor cannot help him now... so Yuuri must help himself, if he wants to hold onto any hope of returning to his home.

Yet the next day, when Yuuri tries to leave under the cover of darkness, he finds he cannot. Something stops him from stepping outside the opera house. Yuuri stands still in the open doorway, trying to lift his foot, but he cannot move. He cannot reach forward. Something halts him from leaving this place.

Something magical.

Yuuri is truly trapped, here; and truly, completely alone.


	2. Chapter 2

The dance shoes sit in the corner of his refuge for nearly a month before Yuuri touches them.

He puts them on only out of desperation. Unable to leave the opera house, yet unwilling to engage with the humans within, he spends his days watching operas and ballet from the rafters. At some point, he finds an old, unused balcony that has been blocked off from the general public, and here he sits night after night, watching the humans sing and dance about magic.

It makes him want to dance, too.

Cranes hold dance as something holy. Yuuri learned the dances as a child, but he never performed them for others, too shy and unsure of himself. He always loved dancing, though, and longed for a partner who would dance with him. That dream remains unrealized, but as Yuuri watches the humans dance across the stage, joy in their very bodies, he starts to yearn again.

He decides to dance, too.

The shoes leave something to be desired. They sit oddly on his feet, pinching in strange ways, yet after months of watching the dancers below, Yuuri thinks he knows how to wear them well enough. It takes longer to get used to dancing in them, but Yuuri finds his grace once more after intense practice, often limping back to his refuge with sores on his feet, hurting but satisfied. Soon the sores fade, and Yuuri finds his equilibrium. Some days, he uses the shoes, and other days he goes barefoot, just as light on his feet.

They aren't the feet he should dance on, but he dances nonetheless, and he is calmer for it.

Some nights, after the dancers have left and the guards have passed out, Yuuri goes down to the stage and stands alone in the darkness. He listens to the shadows, to the faint lights that illuminate the back of the opera, and he lets his emotions shine through his movements. Nobody can see him here; nobody can hear the angry song in his soul. Yet he can dance, here in the quiet. Having that outlet keeps him from going insane and hurting anyone, including himself.

The seasons pass slowly. Spring has already gone, and summer is well on its way to following. Autumn has appeared, with cold winds and scattered leaves that blow their way into Yuuri's refuge when he opens the window. He gathers them up one by one and puts them in a basket by his nest, admiring the colors on each and thinking longingly of the red leaves of home. The weather changes to heavier rains, and the dancers below complain of damp boots and soiled clothing. Yuuri pays them little mind, finding the rain refreshing.

The operas change. _Iolanta_ is long gone, replaced by other performances. _Sadko_ is full of allusions to the sea, and even features swans, Yuuri's long-ignored cousins. Despite the interesting songs, the humans' greed for gold at the Sea King's expense leaves him fuming. Perhaps it is a wistful tale for humans, to dream of adventure and falling in love with princesses from magical kingdoms, but Yuuri finds it abhorrent. He spends every performance glaring at the Sea King's crown until it leaves his sight indefinitely. At night, he dances angrily on stage, copying the Sea King's movements but changing them to rejecting Sadko's attempts to gain his attention.

He might be projecting, just a little.

All while he dances, Yuuri's thoughts return to Viktor, to that mysterious smile he saw when Viktor met him. He wonders at how a smile could appear so... false, as if the real Viktor would have a different smile entirely.

The thought surprises him. Perhaps he has focused too much on one meeting with this person (who enthralls him, who _drives_ him to keep going) -- yet Yuuri cannot stop these thoughts. He finds himself drawn to Viktor hopelessly, thoroughly, just as strongly as a crane longs to dance.

He wants Viktor to come back. As the months trudge by, Yuuri listens closely for any mention of Viktor's name. He hides in the dressing rooms more often than he cares to admit, using Mila as a source of intel on the person he wants to meet. Sometimes he lurks around the kitchens or back of the stage, hiding from the servants who clean and cook, listening to them talk about what will happen to the opera when Lord Nikiforov leaves.

For the soldier's father will certainly leave. With his wife dead and his son missing, the old lord's visits have become rarer and rarer, until Yuuri nearly forgets that he ever threatened his life. Near the end of summer, news comes that Lord Nikiforov is bedridden with illness and grief. After it becomes obvious that the old man will not return, Yuuri ventures out of his hiding place more often.

The humans start to notice him, but they do not react negatively, despite Yuuri's heart pounding the first time he lets someone see him. Instead they merely nod and continue working, which makes Yuuri realize that they believe him to be another servant of the opera house. To Yuuri's surprise, he even sees one or two people who look like him, with dark eyes and hair, but none of them sound like they hail from Japan. The kingdom of Russia must be larger than Yuuri realized, if they have so many different people here.

He makes a few friends, if he can call them that. Mila notices him the first day and starts talking to him immediately, not realizing that he is the same 'new girl' she occasionally slips a package of sweets. She does give him a few thoughtful looks after he speaks a little softly, nervous over using Russian in public, but she never calls Yuuri out on his behavior.

There is also a boy in the kitchens that takes to Yuuri, when he comes in hungry expecting it to be empty. Instead he finds an excitable young man who beams at Yuuri entirely too much and offers him a plate of leftover stew. When Yuuri dares to complain about the lack of fish in the meals the kitchen prepares, the boy promises to include fish on the next shipment. Perhaps he thinks Yuuri is one of the guards, who get meals when they work late. Whatever the reason, the boy reminds him a little of a young crane who joined Yuuri's court a few years ago and often followed him around, just as excitedly.

These small interactions leave Yuuri more comfortable with his fate. He still cannot leave the opera house, but he can pay others to get supplies for him. He starts to pretend to be a caretaker of the building, as many come to assume, and takes full advantage of the humans' lack of suspicion toward him. They barely notice that he is a foreigner, to his chagrin. He could have left his hiding place months ago.

But one day, Yuuri's world changes again.

So comes the news that sets everyone to gossip: the old Lord Nikiforov is dead, and the theater may close indefinitely.

The humans panic. Then, when their anxiety has run its course, they begin to close down the theater. Yuuri retreats, overcome with the reminder that the Nikiforov family has his cloak, and that he cannot reach the dead man's home to search for it. He hides in the rafters as the opera house goes into mourning.

Just like the humans, he panics as well, as he comes to realize how truly trapped he is. Just before the opera house closes indefinitely, Yuuri finds the kitchen boy and makes a deal with him, to drop off a box of food every week by one of the lesser used entrances. Yuuri's key will unlock the door, even if he cannot step outside, and it will be enough to keep him fed, at least.

Soon, though, everyone leaves, and Yuuri finds himself alone.

What can he do now? How can he possibly survive here, with no one and nothing?

Yuuri does not know.

~*~

A noise brings Yuuri out of his daze.

He does not recognize the sound for a moment, before it comes back to him. Footsteps somewhere down below. Yuuri sits for a few minutes, listening to them walk across the theater, the heavy footfalls echoing across the rafters. He contemplates moving from his nest, where he has been curled up as he stares out the window, desolate and miserable.

Something creaks below, and Yuuri reluctantly rises.

A visitor to the opera house is nothing new. In the past four months, many people have come and gone, some of them coming to clean or fetch belongings, while others have toured the building in hopes of buying the property. Each time the latter happened, Yuuri became angry and stalked the humans, until they began to believe that something was haunting the building and ran away. Since the last tour over a month ago, Yuuri has seen no one.

Slowly Yuuri walks to the edge of his refuge, to where the attic ends with the rafters and juts out over the open opera. One of his preferred perches overlooks the main seats of the audience, and Yuuri moves there first to look upon the invader.

His heart skips a beat when he sees pale hair.

Viktor Nikiforov is strolling down the center aisle in the middle of the audience chamber, his hair swept back. He is wearing a buttoned shirt, its sleeves rolled up halfway, and trousers tucked into gleaming black boots, looking so unlike the carefully maintained persona Yuuri met months ago that Yuuri has to blink a few times to comprehend that he is truly there. His hands are in his pockets, with a thick folder stuck under one arm. The sight of the man makes Yuuri clutch the pillar beside him in shock.

Viktor is back. Viktor is _here_?

Viktor walks up to the stage and pauses, looking around slowly, before striding off to the side and finding the hidden staircase that ascends the stage. He takes measured steps to the center of the stage and stops in the middle of the great platform to gaze out at the empty audience, as Yuuri has done countless times when alone.

Yuuri watches, breathless with anticipation and intrigue. He thinks of going downstairs to meet Viktor, rather foolishly, but sense holds him back from a precarious mistake. How would he explain his presence in an empty, closed opera house? Instead, Yuuri slowly creeps to another part of the rafters, always keeping an eye on Viktor, so that he may see the human more clearly.

Viktor's eyes are the same brilliant hue that Yuuri remembers. Something in his expression has changed compared to the memory Yuuri keeps visiting, as if winter's cold has crept in from the north, destroying all hints of life. His smiling mask is gone, replaced with desolation.

He looks... lonely.

"So it's all up to me," Viktor says suddenly into the quiet. His voice reaches Yuuri easily, making him jump in surprise. A small smile touches Viktor's lips, nothing like the expression Yuuri remembers, yet just as foreign compared to his secret daydreams of Viktor's true smile.

Yet this smile feels far more real than anything from his dreams.

"I'll just have to show everyone what I can do," Viktor continues, before he turns away from the silent audience and walks behind the curtain. Yuuri scrambles to join him from his great distance above, stepping as silently and quickly as he can over the boards and rafters, before he loses sight of Viktor disappearing down a hallway.

Yuuri hesitates, then darts away to find the exit from his refuge, so that he may follow.

Yuuri loses Viktor for a while, which makes him panic and almost leave the shadows that protect him. He searches through the halls anxiously, worrying that Viktor has already left, only to nearly run into him on one of the lower floors, where the dormitories are located. Yuuri hides a gasp when he sees Viktor start to turn toward him, ducking behind a corner. He holds still in hope that Viktor does not come to investigate the little noise he made.

Thankfully, Viktor does not. After a moment, a door opens, and so Yuuri cautiously peeks around the corner.

Viktor is standing at the dormitory entrance, gazing into the empty room with a blank expression. He moves as if to step inside, then sighs and leans against the door frame.

"Perhaps you were never really here," Viktor whispers, then says a name that makes every hair on Yuuri's body stand up.

"Yuuri..."

~*~

Viktor leaves, and this time, Yuuri does not follow. He sits in the darkened hallway for a long time, repeating Viktor's words over and over in his mind. His heartbeat slows after a time, but Yuuri still feels _thrilled_.

He returns to his nest in a daze, his thoughts caught up on Viktor and the way he said Yuuri's name. He goes to the window and peers down at the street, wet from the day's drizzle, but Viktor's carriage has already left.

He sits, and he thinks.

Viktor must have inherited the opera house. Perhaps he means to start performances again, or perhaps he means to close the opera house indefinitely, to destroy the home Yuuri has come to know. A sharp ache fills his chest at the thought. As if through a thick cloud, Yuuri realizes that he has grown fond of this theater and its interesting stories, its music, and its dancing. He wants to see more stories. He wants to dance on that stage.

Yuuri needs to know more, so that he may understand Viktor's motives. The person who whispered his name today is not the same human who made a promise to Yuuri months ago. Yuuri hardly knows this Viktor, but he yearns to understand him. To know what kept him away for so long. To find out what put that lonely expression on Viktor's face. To answer the question that has plagued him since the day he laid eyes on the soldier.

_"Where is my cloak?"_

~*~

Three days later, Viktor returns. With him arrives a veritable swarm of people who descend upon the opera house with a mountain of cleaning supplies, gleaming tools, and countless plans.

Yuuri watches, bewildered. He spent the last three days in an anxious daze, checking the window constantly to see if Viktor would return. Upon seeing that head of pale hair, mostly hidden beneath a tall hat, descend from the black door of a carriage, Yuuri had rushed to one of his better perches over the stage, so that he may watch for any changes.

And oh, there are changes. He dares not leave his nest, not even when he sees a few familiar faces in the crowd of workers. The cleaners swept through the building, finding and wiping away every speck of dust, even coming dangerously close to the entrance to Yuuri's refuge. Meanwhile, trade workers begin to peel away old wallpaper and upholstery, replacing them with newer, brighter colors. The opera house has never sparkled so brightly, as if made anew.

Through it all, Viktor directs the efforts of his workers as a king would rule his court. His mask of politeness has returned, that loneliness hidden beneath calm propriety, as he smiles at blushing maids and plumbers, sending each to their duties easily. He never shares his plans, except those of remodeling the building, no matter how hard Yuuri listens.

It frustrates him. He wants to know _more_ , but he might have to resign himself to gossip, instead.

The renovations take some time, but eventually, Viktor brings back all of the performers and crew who worked behind the curtains, in the midst of hammering and shouting from all corners of the opera. While surrounded by the stench of paint and varnish, which thankfully are not strong enough to invade Yuuri's refuge, the dancers and staff gather on the stage, where Viktor stands before them with his hands on his hips.

"Hello, everyone," Viktor all but sings, earning several titters from the crowd. "As you may have heard already, I have taken over the St. Petersburg Forov Theater. My father, rest his soul, left the opera house to me in his estate, to sell or to revive. I chose to revive." He smiles, and from Yuuri's vantage point above, the expression seems... cold.

"We must work together to bring our opera house back to its former glory. Under my father's leadership, the care put into this legacy was sadly lacking, particularly toward the end of his days. I have heard your complaints and worries, and I will address each of these concerns in the coming weeks." Viktor's smile twists to something like a shark's, making many in his audience shift with discomfort. "First, about the ludicrous demands for genders to share dressing rooms..."

Above, Yuuri watches in growing amusement as Viktor goes through every strange complaint of his staff and either addresses them with a firm solution or destroys them completely. The changes are considerable, yet each of Viktor's policies is well-reasoned and agreeable, for the most part. Some of the crowd seems upset with his changes, but others, particularly the dancers, seem to approve. Yuuri has to admire Viktor's elegant and savage manner in silencing any objections, sending his detractors into sulks or, once, storming off to leave the opera completely.

Viktor watches the latter with a blank expression, then turns back to the crowd. "You may not like the changes I have planned. If you wish, you may leave the Forov Theater at any time. If you have genuine concerns, then come to me to discuss them rationally. I will not give in to shallow demands, but I will listen if need be."

The crowd relaxes with acceptance. Yuuri sits back on his haunches, intrigued and a little disturbed.

This is not the same man he met before, not quite. Something about Viktor has changed, enough that Yuuri is hesitant about approaching him. The urge to find his cloak rises up again, pressing into his throat, but Yuuri knows that he needs to be cautious. Viktor might have whispered his name, but there is no way to know what he thinks of Yuuri. His father or the soldier could have whispered lies into Viktor's ear... perhaps changing his mind enough that Viktor broke his promise to Yuuri purposefully.

Yet Yuuri does not want to believe that. He does not know why he wants to trust in Viktor, nor why his instincts insist that Viktor would never hurt or betray him, but...

With a sigh, Yuuri casts one more look down at the stage, then steps back and disappears into the shadows. With Viktor busy, he has a little time to reinforce his protections on his refuge.

Since he does not look back again, Yuuri misses the way blue eyes flash upwards at the spot where he was hiding, nor how they narrow in contemplation.

~*~

When practices begin again for a new performance, the story is not one Yuuri has seen before. He lets the new opera distract him from his indecision over Viktor, throwing himself into the love affair of the main character. Despite his better wishes, the opera takes to haunting his dreams.

 _Rusalka_ follows a water nymph who longs to become human, all so that she can be with the person she loves. Yet the human prince betrays her for another, and so she returns to her lake, becoming a vengeful spirit. When the prince follows her, she leads him to his death.

The tragedy of it bothers Yuuri. He has long believed, like most of his kind, that humans and magical creatures cannot coexist, that humans will always reject magic and what it brings, and that love is forbidden between them. In all of these fanciful tales of magic and mystery, the humans seem to agree: anytime something like 'witchcraft' happens, the human suffers for it, and the magical creature is left to die or live alone in agony.

He hates it. The humans he has seen are silly and ridiculous, and Yuuri scarcely understands any of them, but some have been kind to him. Viktor made a promise to him and kept part of it, as did Mila, who has brought him packages of soap and sweets for months -- "chocolates," she called them one day, when Yuuri hid in the changing rooms to wait for her. He wonders why she still does so, when it is obvious that the other girl he pretended to be is gone.

Yet humans have the capacity to be cruel, too. The soldier, who is long gone. Lord Nikiforov, who seldom ventured into the opera house, too occupied by the loss of his wife over the summer, and who promised to incapacitate Yuuri if he dared show his face. The dancers who snipe and pick at each other in an effort to be the highest ranking human on the stage. The guards who argue with each other and leer about the dancers when nobody is listening.

Except Yuuri, who is always listening. With a frown, he lifts his hands to the darkened ceiling, watching the gleam of the golden arches above from where he stands in the center of the stage.

The new opera drove Yuuri out of his shadowy refuge and into the peaceful quiet of the empty opera theater. Often after the dancers have retired from their practice and the guards have fallen asleep, Yuuri goes down to the stage to dance his frustrations, following the movements of the lead dancer with fluid grace. It fills his mind with anger and wonder, and he cannot resist the movements that define the emotions within the story. 

Tonight is one such night. With elegance beyond measure, Yuuri leads his body into movement, taking up the dance of Rusalka, lost in her desire for love.

He thinks of his homeland, and how his own people can be petty and silly, too. They can be cruel and narcissistic, often engaging in ridiculous territorial spats when in the middle of dancing and mating. They can be kind, too; how many times had Mari protected him, when Yuuri had gotten himself into trouble? How long ago had Minako- _sensei_ taken Yuuri under her wing, to teach him how to dance?

Perhaps humans and cranes are not so different after all. Perhaps the tragedy of magic is not that humans do not have it, but creatures like Yuuri do, and they cannot share it.

When Yuuri twirls in Rusalka's place, he does not dance to the Prince's death. Instead he dances with the Prince at the very end, lifting him high and giving him the love that Rusalka always wished to share with him.

Yuuri ends his dance to an empty theater, breathing harshly in the quiet. Unlike normal, the dance has left him unsatisfied. His anger is gone, replaced with a quiet desolation that matches the shadows that cling to the upholstered seats in the audience. The silence taunts him.

He wonders if he could ever find someone like Rusalka found her Prince.

With a scoff, Yuuri turns away, frustrated with himself for dreaming of something better. He will never love anyone. He may never leave this place, and he needs to come to terms with that. Love is out of the question; a never-ending dance with his mate will never happen. Unlike Rusalka, though, Yuuri does not want to wither away and die without his lover's attention. Instead, Yuuri will break his enchantment on his own.

Even if it means breaking his wings.

The thought drives him from the stage. He walks through the hallways in a haze, lost in his own mind. He feels peaceful for the first time in months. The decision was long in coming, but Yuuri still mourns the thought of his wings, given form by his cloak. The cloak is gone, even if Yuuri can feel it still. Maybe Viktor has it. Maybe he does not. Either way, Yuuri needs to stop fixating on the cloak and look for other ways to leave this place.

When Yuuri looks up again, he realizes he is close to the dormitories, and he slows. 

He has not dared to venture here since he saw Viktor all those nights ago. Yet here he is, as if drawn to the memory of Viktor saying his name. Unbidden, Yuuri's feet lead him along the same path that Viktor took to the dormitory doorway.

He pushes the door open slowly. The corner of the room that Yuuri claimed so long ago sits empty and unused. Yuuri stares at it for a time, wondering if he should try and make it livable. He cannot stay down here, but perhaps if he brought some of his pillows down, or maybe some of the leaves he collected, the space would look a little better. Something to brighten it... make it lived-in, like before.

Something to draw Viktor back.

The thought upsets him again. He is still fixated on Viktor. Unsettled, Yuuri almost turns away when he spots a small shape on the bed. He frowns a little and steps closer, squinting in the dark. The object becomes a pouch, one that looks just like the dozens of others Yuuri has received.

His payment from Viktor. 

Yuuri's heart leaps. He lurches forward to grab the pouch, yanking it open and looking inside. A stack of paper money and coins, with a single piece of scrap paper with Russian writing on it, are the only contents. Yuuri lifts out the paper with shaking fingers, squinting again to try and read. He wishes he understood.

"It says 'Yuuri.'"

Yuuri whirls around on his heel, coming face to face with Viktor himself, standing mere feet away. Yuuri covers his mouth, still clutching the pouch. Viktor stares at him, eyes bright with something so unlike the darkness Yuuri saw before that it makes his heart race.

"Yuuri... you _are_ here. I knew I saw you," Viktor breathes.

"Viktor," Yuuri says numbly, unthinkingly. The sound of his voice, disused and sad, shocks him. He steps back, and Viktor's expression shifts to alarm.

"Yuuri, wait --"

Yuuri does not wait. He runs, dashing around Viktor and taking off out the door. Almost immediately, he hears footsteps pounding behind him, Viktor calling his name.

"Yuuri! Please, just wait a moment!"

Yuuri does not dare. He runs as fast as he can, but Viktor must have the wings of the gods guiding his feet, because he is gaining on Yuuri. Panic floods his mind, destroying rationality. Viktor must meant to capture him, to take yet more of Yuuri's freedom. He must not be caught. He must escape.

He finds the staff stairwell and starts up the steps, glancing down when he rounds the bannister. His breath leaves him in a gasp when he sees Viktor bounding up the stairs after him. Viktor's eyes catch his gaze and narrow. Yuuri's chest gives a sharp ache from the force of his exhilaration.

Not fear?

Yuuri does not pause to think. He runs faster, reaching the second floor landing in seconds, then the third. The hallway to his refuge beckons, but Yuuri avoids it, not wanting Viktor to find that safe place yet. He goes in the opposite direction, to a little-used storeroom at the end of another hallway. Once he passes the threshold, he manages to slam the door shut, just as something heavy hits it behind him.

Yuuri throws the lock as quickly as he can, then leans back against the worn wood, trembling.

The weight pressing against the door lessens slightly, but Yuuri is no fool. He can almost feel Viktor's heat just inches away.

"Yuuri," Viktor whispers, his voice a little breathless after chasing Yuuri. The sound of it makes something in Yuuri's gut tighten with heat. "Please come out. I only wish to talk." 

Yuuri shakes his head, even though Viktor cannot see him. He does not want to speak again and show Viktor his shameful voice.

After a moment, Viktor sighs, shifting behind the door. Yuuri thinks he could be pressing his hands to the space where Yuuri's back rests. Unable to reach him.

"Have you been here all this time? Alone in this dreadful place?" Viktor asks softly, oddly keen. He waits for a response that does not come. "Yuuri... I saw you tonight, and I scarcely believed my eyes. You were beautiful on that stage, dancing unlike anything I have ever seen! I have thought of little else but you since we parted. Please come out. I just want to talk."

The sweet words send a thrill through Yuuri. He wants to believe those sweet, seductive words, but he is afraid. Surely Viktor could not care so deeply for a stranger who once assaulted him? They have only met a single time. They hardly know each other... yet Yuuri feels their odd connection, too. Something constantly draws him toward Viktor -- maybe... just maybe, Viktor feels the same.

"I'm not angry, Yuuri. What my family did to you was unforgivable. I... spoke to my brother, before he went back to the war. He told me everything. At first I dismissed him as a lunatic, but when I thought of you all alone here, so far from home because of him, because of my father... because of _me_ , I could not wait. I had to see you. I am sorry it took so long."

Viktor falls silent, and Yuuri cannot stop the small gasp that escapes his lips. He can barely think, let alone understand Viktor's sweet, earnest words. He needs to get away. He needs space to _think_ , to sort through what Viktor said. 

His gaze roves across the dark storeroom, searching frantically for an escape route. The breath in his lungs leaves him in a rush when he sees a narrow staircase that leads upstairs. To safety. He moves to step away, when Viktor speaks again. The sadness in his voice makes Yuuri go still.

"It is alright, Yuuri. I will leave you alone. Please, just... you can stay here as long as you want. I will try to find a way for you to return home, now that you have your cloak." The words make no sense. His cloak? Yuuri stands frozen, unable to speak. Viktor waits another moment, but Yuuri cannot reply, let alone flee. Yuuri hears another sigh, before the weight on the door disappears, and footsteps lead away.

He finds his voice too late. "Wait, Viktor! What about..." He twists the lock open, but when he throws open the door, Viktor is gone.

"My cloak..."

Tears come to his eyes. Yuuri stumbles forward, then runs down the hall. "Viktor? Vikt--"

He cuts off when he rounds the corner and hits a warm chest. Hands come up to grip his shoulders gently. Yuuri gasps as he catches his breath, reaching up to grip those arms, breathing in Viktor's scent for a moment. He cannot bring himself to look up, to allow himself to see Viktor.

He has not been held by someone in so very long that it _hurts._ Yuuri cannot resist it; so he leans forward into that warmth, closing his eyes tightly against the flood of emotions burning up in his throat.

"Yuuri? Are you -- are you crying? Oh, I can't handle crying," Viktor says, panicking, and Yuuri lets out a wet laugh. He starts to calm a little, Viktor's warmth seeping into his core, and with him, Viktor begins to relax as well. After a moment, Viktor's arms slide all the way around his shoulders, in an unmistakable hug. 

"I have you," Viktor murmurs, and Yuuri thinks he might be okay now.

He does not know how long they stand there, but soon Yuuri draws away, wiping at his eyes. Viktor watches him with a soft, worried expression.

"Can you explain," Yuuri asks in a careful voice, ignoring the sound of his own misery, "what you meant by my cloak?"

Viktor blinks, his hands moving to hold Yuuri's arms, as if to keep him from running away. Yuuri would not -- not without information on his cloak, anyway. He could break the hold easily, so he ignores it.

"Your cloak? You don't have it?"

"No!" Yuuri protests, his heart beating faster. He does not understand the confusion on Viktor's face. "I never... Please, what do you mean?"

"I sent it to you," Viktor says slowly, eyes narrowing, Yuuri's heart nearly stops. "You did not receive it?"

Yuuri shakes his head. He doesn't know whether to demand more information or break down crying again. He stares up at Viktor in mute need, and something in Viktor's gaze softens. He pats Yuuri's arms in comfort, and Yuuri leans into the motion, before stopping the movement, holding himself stiffly.

"I found it, Yuuri," Viktor says quietly. His eyes are clear, and he does not look away from Yuuri's desperate gaze. "At the manor where my brother hid it. I hired a courier to bring it here to you... I did not know your family name, so I asked them to give it to 'Yuuri' at the dormitory. They must have misplaced it. I'm so sorry, Yuuri --"

"It is here," Yuuri interrupts, his mind racing. No wonder he feels the cloak so close. It's been _here_ for months, and he had no idea. The courier must have brought the cloak, but Yuuri never found a package waiting for him. He has no idea where they put it, but... he knows it must be safe. He believes Viktor. "I can feel it. It has not been harmed, just... hidden."

"You can feel it." Viktor stares at him unblinkingly for a moment, then takes a deep breath. "My apologies, I suppose it's all still a little hard to believe. A man who can turn into a crane..."

"The other way," Yuuri says quietly, lifting his eyes to watch Viktor's face.

"Hm?"

"A crane who can turn into a man. I'm not human, Viktor." He watches as the information takes root in Viktor's eyes, expecting fear or jealousy or greed, but Viktor only blinks in surprise, then nods. Something brightens his eyes, but Yuuri cannot read the emotion.

"My apologies." Viktor remains quiet for a moment, then nods as he seems to come to a decision. "Nothing can be done tonight. I must interrogate the courier, provided I can find him again, and ask the staff if they have seen the package. For now, let us rest, and tomorrow, we can look for it together."

Yuuri nods, suddenly exhausted by the thought of searching this building again, from basement to attic. It is enough, he thinks, that he knows his cloak is here. The feeling on the other end of his connection to the cloak has been the same all this time, and so it must be safe for now. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he will search.

Something touches his hand, curling around his palm and gently tugging. Yuuri looks down in surprise to find that Viktor is leading him away. He wonders vaguely where Viktor intends to take him, but he is too drained to protest. He follows willingly, watching the back of Viktor's head. After a while, he ends up watching their clasped hands, wondering at the simple human connection, and how nice it feels.

So distracted by Viktor's kindness is he that Yuuri does not realize their destination, until something hard presses against his senses and pushes him back, breaking Viktor's hold on him. He blinks as he rocks on the balls of his feet, staring down at his hand for a moment, then lifting his gaze to watch Viktor, his heart aching at the expression of blank shock on Viktor's face.

"What was that?" Viktor takes Yuuri's hand again and begins to pull, but the same force shoves between them once more, disrupting the connection. Yuuri's hand falls limply to his side, still tingling from Viktor's touch.

"I cannot leave, Viktor," Yuuri says softly, mustering a faint smile. "As my cloak is locked away, so am I. That cloak is my wings, after all... and what is a crane who cannot fly?"

He turns away into the darkness and does not wait for Viktor to follow him.

~*~

The next day when Viktor stumbles into the opera house, after staying up late wandering the halls searching for Yuuri -- who avoided him with expertise -- Yuuri appears at his elbow, his shadow in every way. The dancers, stagehands, and craftsmen all pause to stare at them, confused by Yuuri's existence. Yuuri pays them no mind, his attention fastened to Viktor's face.

Viktor's eyes go wide when he sees him, and he immediately throws his arms around Yuuri, pulling him close in another strange, warm hug. Yuuri stares over his shoulder, before something in him softens, and he reaches up to touch Viktor's back. 

"Oh, Yuuri! I'm so relieved to see you! I looked everywhere for you all night!"

Yuuri endures the hands that pet his hair and check his face for any sign of injury, before shaking off Viktor's attention and stepping slightly behind him as their audience moves closer. Viktor notices how Yuuri hides himself away and straightens, taking the responsibility of protecting him seriously. Yuuri is surprised by how well Viktor understands him.

Mila, whom Yuuri recognizes by her fiery red hair, steps forward, eyeing Yuuri with thinly veiled amusement. She knows exactly who he is, but she asks the question for the sake of the other dancers. "Who is this, Viktor?"

Viktor beams at her and the gaggle of girls behind her. "This is Yuuri, my assistant! He will be with me at all times from now on. If you have any questions for him, direct them to me instead."

Yuuri keeps his face completely placid, as if his new job title is perfectly normal and not a complete shock at all. Inwardly, he wants to demand why Viktor would even think that his employees would accept Yuuri as his assistant -- but to his surprise, the crowd does accept it immediately, as if Viktor would never lie to them.

Maybe it's because Viktor is doing it to protect him, but Yuuri finds he does not mind the dishonesty, this time.

"What, he can't talk for himself?" asks a new voice. The crowd parts to reveal a slim young man with hair almost as bright as Yuuri's crown. The boy's eyes are fixed on Yuuri in an unmistakably hostile sneer. Yuuri puts on a smile. "How useless."

"Yuri Plisetsky, that is not very nice to say," admonishes Viktor, startling Yuuri. This boy has the same name as him?

The boy lets out a sharp laugh. "Assistant is better than nothing, I guess. He looks like a pig. He couldn't make it as a dancer with that face."

Yuuri keeps his placid smile. What a brat.

"I can speak for myself perfectly well," Yuuri says in smooth Russian, not addressing the other insults. He earns a surprised glance from Viktor and a glare from his new friend. He notices Mila startle and avoids her suddenly sharp gaze.

"Careful, Yuri Plisetsky, or I'll give him your role in the opera," adds Viktor, when the boy opens his mouth to deliver an undoubtedly snarling response. Yuuri turns to stare at Viktor, while the boy bristles, but Viktor ignores him with a smile.

"Huh?! As if he can dance," the boy scoffs.

Yuuri does not let his eye twitch. Viktor looks delighted for some reason.

"You never know," Viktor says mysteriously, then claps his hands, making several people jump. "We have much work to do! Off with you, all of you!" He smiles as the crowd scatters upon his command, the dancers flitting off to practice, while the workers go back to their jobs. 

Satisfied, Viktor strides away, and Yuuri follows after casting a glance over his shoulder. He ignores the considering look from Mila and the glare from Yuri Plisetsky -- how unfortunate, to share a name with such a rude boy -- and catches up to Viktor. Together, they walk up several flights of stairs, before Yuuri feels certain that they are alone.

"Assistant, hm?"

"Just an explanation that they will accept, though I have no doubt that you will be of great assistance to me, Yuuri," Viktor replies. He stops in the middle of the hallway suddenly. Yuuri realizes that they are near old Lord Nikiforov's office. Viktor smiles at him and pulls a little silver key out of his pocket, unlocking the nearby door and gesturing for Yuuri to walk inside.

Yuuri enters cautiously, expecting the ghost of the old man to float out of the wall, but the office remains silent. The room is surprisingly clean, without any dust or dirt marring the surfaces, and a neat stack of papers sits on the desk. Yuuri touches the desk, vividly remembering when he was tossed in here months ago. He wonders vaguely where the soldier has gone, then focuses on Viktor, who is watching him.

"You surprised me," Viktor murmurs. "Showing up out of nowhere. I could not find you anywhere last night. I only wished to help you."

"Nothing would have helped," Yuuri replies, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away. He prowls around the room, echoing the footsteps he took months ago, but he cannot sense his cloak in here. He scowls; it must be somewhere else.

"I could help," Viktor says, stepping closer. "Make you more comfortable..."

Yuuri shakes his head, turning away to stand at the window and looking down at the practice taking place below. Yuri Plisetsky is in the middle of the stage, holding his arms aloft. The expression on his face is stiff and uncertain. "How? I cannot leave, Viktor. I have a place to sleep and I have access to food. That is all I need."

"What about access to the sky?"

Yuuri freezes. For a moment he hears the rustle of feathers, as if his wings wish to form and give flight at the very mention of the place he misses so much. Without the cloak, it is impossible, but Yuuri _longs_ for a horrible moment, wishing he could fly again. He has sat by the window day after night, watching the city skyline and aching for the sea, but he has not truly stepped outside in months.

"Do not taunt me," Yuuri says lowly, keeping his back to Viktor. He does not doubt that Viktor has noticed his reaction.

"It was not meant as a taunt." Viktor's voice is right behind him now, and it makes Yuuri jump, his nerves singing in anticipation. "I did not sleep last night, after you ran away from me. I searched and searched, and when I could not find you, I returned to my home in a daze. Instead of sleeping, I lay awake and thought of you, alone in this building with no freedom. Like me," Viktor adds softly.

Yuuri turns on his heel, finding Viktor right behind him. He does not move, letting Viktor fill his space, his warmth so very close. He likes this intimacy; it reminds him of home, of happier times. Viktor's eyes are so very sad, for Yuuri, for himself. He wonders what kind of life Viktor has led, to look so lonely.

"Tell me?" Yuuri's request is barely a whisper. Viktor smiles, a soft and private thing. Yuuri has never wanted to know a person more.

"It isn't a very long story. I grew up in these halls, chasing after dreams and dancing to my heart's content. I danced on that stage as a boy, and later as a young man... and then I gave it up and ran away, before my father's ire broke my feet and my will. Perhaps he broke it long ago with his obsession... I will never know what drove him to push me so hard." Viktor's gaze moves past Yuuri to the window, something bitter darkening their blue depths. "Yet here I am again, chasing after another dream."

Yuuri stays quiet, his eyes wide. Viktor meets his gaze again and smiles, deceptively charming. Without thinking, Yuuri reaches up to touch those lying lips, tracing them with the tips of his fingers. They fall open in surprise.

"It is a story I want to know. So I can understand. Why... why am I drawn to you?" Yuuri wonders, as if thinking aloud. Viktor swallows and closes his mouth, leaving the barest of kisses on Yuuri's fingers. Yuuri feels it more as electricity, striking through him and burning him, leaving him empty of anything but Viktor. With a small sigh, Viktor reaches up to take Yuuri's hand, but he does not move it away.

"Do you know," Viktor says quietly, his eyes closing briefly, "I was meant to fight in the war, as well?"

Yuuri stops breathing for a moment. Viktor lifts his gaze, his smile softening.

"Does that upset you?"

"Wars leave nothing but death on our hands," Yuuri whispers. He thinks of the soldier, all but dead to everyone's memories. He thinks of his people who keep dying when humans hunt each other. Viktor's mien darkens with old grief. Yuuri suddenly wonders how Viktor feels about his brother's disappearance, but he dares not ask.

"Perhaps that is why my father feared the war, and why he did what he did," Viktor says quietly. "You see, my father bought me a place in a French university and persuaded the recruitment officials to pass me over in favor of my younger brother. I spent years in France while Sergei fought on the front line. Perhaps if I had become a soldier..."

Yuuri realizes what Viktor means before he finishes the sentence. "No, Viktor --"

Viktor smiles, turning his face away. "Perhaps, if I had done my duty and fought instead of him, you would not be here. So you see, my darling, your presence here is my fault. I could have protested my father's selfish treatment. I could have fought bravely and died a noble death. Instead, I hid like a coward, and as my reward, I am abandoned by my family, with a prisoner of my blood before my eyes."

Yuuri shakes his head wordlessly. He could no more blame Viktor than he could blame the sun for rising. "If you had fought bravely and died a noble death," Yuuri whispers, pressing his hand against Viktor's cheek to nudge him forward again, "then I would not know you. What kind of life would I live, to never meet you? You changed me, Viktor."

Viktor blinks, his eyes going wide as Yuuri's meaning penetrates his guilt. He stares at Yuuri for a long moment, his grip tightening on Yuuri's hand until he is all but squeezing it, but Yuuri does not mind the dull pain. At last Viktor relents, pressing another kiss to Yuuri's fingers, much more firm this time. His gaze never leaves Yuuri's, his blue eyes blazing.

"Let me show you the sky, Yuuri."

Viktor leads him away from the office, and Yuuri follows willingly, his mind full of chaos over Viktor's admission and the heat of his lips against his fingers. When they reach a vaguely familiar hallway, Yuuri hesitates, pulling back on Viktor's hand. Viktor casts him a gentle smile and tugs on Yuuri's wrist until he follows again, walking to the same room that Yuuri hid in last night. Yuuri watches, holding his breath, as Viktor pushes the door open and flicks on the lights. The strange electric lamps cast long lines across the room, illuminating the stairwell that Yuuri nearly used to escape Viktor.

"I remember this room," Viktor says quietly, stepping into the dusty haven. He does not let go of Yuuri's hand, even when Yuuri treads much more hesitantly. "I used to play up here when I was a boy. My feet would be filthy after an afternoon in these rafters, but it was worth my father's anger. One day, I found this."

There is a door at the top of the stairs, with a window that spills light onto the steps. Viktor pulls a small brass key from his pocket and unlocks it, pushing it open. The light washes over Yuuri, blinding him for a moment. He feels Viktor pull him through the doorway, and a breeze touches his face.

Yuuri opens his eyes, and he sees the sky.

It hangs above them, expansive and blue and filled with wispy clouds, stretching as if opening its arms to embrace Yuuri. He stands frozen where he is, not caring that Viktor is staring at him, his hand gripping Viktor's fingers tightly. The wind is cold and the sounds of the city filter through his hearing, but Yuuri does not care. He can see the sky. The sky which calls for him, which beckons him, which begs him to join in and fly away. He can step forward and take off --

"Yuuri, _no._ "

Yuuri feels something pulling his hand, and he looks away from the sky, blinking. Viktor is staring at him, his face white, and Yuuri realizes that he is standing on the edge of the building, one foot in the air. His hands are stopped in the act of lifting his wings -- wings which he does not have anymore.

Yuuri chokes in a gasp and stumbles back. Viktor catches him and pulls them both to the ground, holding Yuuri to his chest tightly. Yuuri tries to close his eyes, but he keeps opening them to look upwards, following the wisps of clouds longingly. Viktor's arms tighten around him. Something wet touches his cheeks, and Yuuri realizes he is crying.

"Please, no," Viktor whispers. Yuuri hears the desperation beneath his words: _please don't leave me_. Yet despite the strange longing in his chest, to comfort Viktor and stay with him, Yuuri cannot bring himself to promise anything. He knows what he will do when he finds his cloak.

They sit like that for a long time, Viktor holding onto Yuuri as if to keep him from flying away, while Yuuri stares at the sky in quiet desolation.

~*~

Three days come and go. Yuuri barely remembers the time passing, for when Viktor is busy with work, he breaks away frequently to sneak up to the rooftop and stare at the sky. He spends those hours thinking about Viktor, about his guilt and loneliness, and about what Viktor admitted to him. He wonders about the empty life in his own world, of months and months of court and banal smiles and quiet yearning for something he did not know.

He knows it now, and despite his imprisonment, Yuuri cannot say he would go back to that other life -- that boring, empty, colorless life.

Not since knowing Viktor.

The courier comes to speak to Viktor on the third day, and Yuuri makes certain to be present for the meeting, despite his heavy thoughts. He stands behind Viktor in the office, a silent shadow to Viktor's radiance, while Viktor himself is seated behind the desk.

Viktor has been just as quiet since he took Yuuri to the roof. He never stops Yuuri from going, but he always comes to find him, and the expression on his face when he sees Yuuri sitting on the edge of the rooftop always makes Yuuri come away with him, every time that Viktor extends his hand.

He tries not to think too hard on why he hates how frightening Viktor looks, during those moments.

Better to focus on his cloak. Viktor has been questioning the boy, leading the conversation with gentle prompts. Yuuri would have been much more ruthless, but the boy is only human, and so does not deserve his wrath.

So far, anyway.

"I dropped it off with the manager, Lord Nikiforov," says the young man earnestly. Yuuri watches him with narrowed eyes, searching for any artifice, but he sees nothing but honesty in the courier.

"Thank you, Vlad," Viktor says with a smile. "That will be all for now. Here's something for your trouble." He hands the boy a small pouch of money and sends him on his way, then leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers against his mouth. "Hmm..."

"We already know it is here, Viktor," Yuuri says impatiently, after a moment of silence.

"Yes, but we still must trace all of its steps properly. The general manager at the time... That would be Yakov Feltsman," Viktor muses, tapping a pen against the paper under his hand, where he has been taking notes. "Unfortunately, Mr. Feltsman retired after the death of my father. He did not trust in my ability to handle this work."

Yuuri deflates. He turns around to watch the stage, but it is quiet today, the actors having a rare day off while the crew cleans and works on scenery for the upcoming performance. Viktor catches his frown and offers a small smile.

"Do not worry, dear Yuuri. I will contact Mr. Feltsman and ask if he remembers anything about the package. It will not take long for him to reply."

Yuuri frowns at the thought of waiting for a response to his important question, but when he glances at Viktor, his ire eases slightly at the sight of his smile. He ignores Viktor's attention with a faint touch of warmth to his cheeks and turns back to the window, crossing his arms over his chest. It is unnecessarily cold in the office today.

"If you say so." 

"I promise, Yuuri."

Another promise. How very like Viktor, to promise something he cannot predict. Yet hasn't Viktor kept all of his promises? He sent Yuuri payment (though for work he had not done). He searched for the cloak and sent it to Yuuri, too (though it disappeared outside of his intentions). He even came back (though only after his father died). 

Still. Yuuri appreciates his determination.

Yuuri lifts a hand to touch the cold glass, then sighs softly as he holds back a shiver. With the arrival of autumn, the temperature has dropped in the theater. The roaring fires of the front halls and the kitchen can only go so far. Viktor has a fireplace as well, in his office, but he does not seem to use it often.

Yet when Viktor stands and strides to the fireplace in question, Yuuri turns to blink at him, surprised. He can only watch in bemusement as Viktor kneels down and begins to build a fire, leaving his gloves hanging in his pocket as he handles the dirty wood and coals. Soon a fire is crackling, bringing warmth to the room.

Viktor stands and dusts off his hands. "My apologies, Yuuri. I had not noticed how cold it was in here."

"It is fine," Yuuri says faintly, already drawing closer to the new source of heat. He approaches Viktor and stands beside him, holding out his hands toward the fire and flexing them slowly, already relaxing from his stiff posture. "I should be used to the cold. As a crane, I am, because we live in a cold part of the world like here, but... as a human..."

Viktor's arm touches his back, another source of warmth, and this one much closer. Yuuri finds himself leaning into the embrace before he thinks better of it. He feels more than hears Viktor's voice touching his ear.

"I will keep you warm, here. At least allow me that privilege."

One of the logs cracks, letting off a few sparks. Yuuri blinks away the burst of firelight in his eyes. "I already told you that I will not show you where I sleep."

"You did, but you cannot blame me for wishing to look after you," Viktor replies with a laugh. He seems content to stay at Yuuri's side, holding him with one arm, the other hand gripping his gloves. He has yet to put them back on; he almost never wears them when he is alone with Yuuri.

Such things Yuuri has learned in the past several days, since Viktor 'hired' him as his assistant and began the arduous task of investigating the disappearance of the cloak. It took this long for the courier to make his way to Viktor's office, having been busy with a faraway delivery. Yuuri should be frustrated with the time it is taking to find his cloak, and yet...

He leans a little closer to Viktor, enjoying the press of Viktor's arm against his shoulder. And yet.

He has kept his nest hidden for now. The attic is cold now, deep in the night when the rising heat from the building has faded away. At these times, Yuuri thinks of retreating downstairs to the dormitory, which is equipped with a fireplace. He wonders how much colder it will become once winter sets in. Then he thinks of staying here in the winter, with Viktor at his side, and he has to shiver.

"Still cold? Let me put on another log," Viktor suggests, but Yuuri reaches down to grab his hand before he can move. Long fingers twitch under his grip, then curl around his hip once more.

"I am fine," Yuuri says quietly. Viktor does not move again, and after a moment, he lets out a deep sigh. Behind Yuuri's shoulder, Viktor's chest expands as he breathes in again. The moment feels oddly intimate.

Maybe he can just come here during the cold nights. There is a space in front of the fireplace, where Yuuri could build a nest...

He shakes the thought away, flushing at his own ridiculousness. Build a nest in Viktor's office? What is he thinking?

"At the very least, let me have a few things delivered for you," Viktor cajoles, reminding Yuuri of their ongoing argument, one that has lasted several days now. "Soap and clothes... perhaps some frivolities? Do you like sweets?"

"I like chocolate," Yuuri says before he can help himself, then claps a hand over his mouth. He looks to the side, only to find a delighted look on Viktor's face.

"When did you have the opportunity to try chocolate?" Viktor asks, eyes wide.

Yuuri sighs in frustration. Damn his big mouth. "There was a girl... a dancer, I guess. She left the company a long time ago. But I pretended to be her for a little while, to get information, and one of the girls helped me out and brought me packages. She included chocolate for some reason... It was very good," he admits. He braces himself for Viktor's mocking, but it never comes.

"How clever you are," Viktor says softly in admiration. The tone of his voice makes Yuuri's ears burn. "I will have some delivered for you. Better yet, I will pick them out myself, and more sweets, and other lovely things to suit you. Let me spoil you like this, Yuuri. After everything, it is the least I can do."

Yuuri finds he cannot deny Viktor. With each day that they spend together, he finds himself growing more and more comfortable with this strange, clever, brilliant human. Viktor knows his secret, knows _him_ , and he has not turned away.

He glances over his shoulder at the window, at the stage beyond. Perhaps he will dance tonight, after Viktor has left for the evening.

~*~

Like every other night, the opera is empty and dark, save a few of the lights on the walls, casting warm glows across the seats. Yuuri eyes them for a moment, wondering if someone other than the sleeping guards is still about, hidden away, before he dismisses the notion. No one ever stays this late. Only him.

Even Viktor always returns home at the end of the night, though he gives Yuuri sad, thoughtful looks when he leaves. Yuuri did not see him off today, choosing to spend his hours after their supper hunting the lower halls for any sign of his cloak. He has been trying to hone his senses for locating it, but his efforts have been frustratingly futile, leaving Yuuri unsettled.

He takes to the stage as soon as the guards begin to fall asleep. There he stands alone, gazing down at the wooden flooring in contemplation.

Rusalka's emotions are rather in tune with his own, even if Yuuri wishes to deny it. She longs to be human, just as Yuuri longs for... what? Viktor? To be with him? Yet Yuuri cannot be with Viktor, for he is a crane, and Viktor will never love someone like him.

Love? What a foolish emotion. Even Rusalka, who gives herself wholly to love, is betrayed in the end by her lover. Will Yuuri, too, be betrayed by Viktor, if he opens his heart?

Yet he cannot help what the heart wants. What he aches for, having come to know Viktor in the days since he was discovered. Mere days, and yet Yuuri has never felt such yearning before, not even in the long months since he first met Viktor and spoke with him. He wants to know all of Viktor, just as Rusalka wished to have all of her beloved.

Yuuri lifts his arms with such hopeful grace, then sets himself to dance. His feet are bare for tonight, having little interest in adopting human constraints. This is the dance of a crane who longs to be someone that a human could desire. Rusalka was a water nymph, a magical creature that only knew one world, but Yuuri has come to know two. His own, and that of the humans. He cannot say which he prefers, because the human world has been so limited to him.

But he wants to know it, and with its interesting stories and songs and dances, he longs to know Viktor.

Viktor, who leads the opera house with little more than a charming smile, but also with wit and intelligence that many fail to see behind his easy mask. Viktor, whose smile becomes genuine when his gaze lands on Yuuri, whether he is hidden in the shadows or standing at Viktor's side. Viktor, who once danced on this stage, who could have been sent into the war that stole Yuuri away but did not, who is so much _more_ than any person Yuuri has ever met.

Human or crane. Yuuri wants _him_.

He dances alone, the shadows blending with his dark colored shirt and trousers, his hands and feet pale flashes in the dim light. Rusalka's dance becomes Yuuri's own, entreating an imaginary prince to join him in dance, then teasingly flirting with his invisible partner. They twirl together on the stage, and as Yuuri dances, he closes his eyes, imagining someone real in his fantasy's place.

Then he hears soft footfalls behind him, quiet but certain, and he twists on his heel, eyes flying open.

Viktor halts a few paces from Yuuri, his eyes widening slightly at the sudden attention from his target. They stare at each other in the darkness. Yuuri wonders wildly why Viktor is still here, when he is certain that Viktor had already left for the night. Yet he never saw Viktor to his carriage, nor did he expressly say goodnight.

Viktor looks enchantingly handsome, his pale hair shining in the darkness. His broad shoulders are wrapped in a simple white shirt, tucked into black pants. For once, his feet are bare, to Yuuri's endless surprise. He cannot help but stare at the pale human feet, more than a little bewildered.

Then Viktor takes a step forward and holds out his hand. Yuuri's attention is immediately caught by those gentle fingers, the ones that never stop holding him, spread in invitation.

Yuuri's heart skips a beat. Viktor means to dance with him. Though Viktor could never know what dance means to a crane, Yuuri cannot help but _ache_ for a moment at the soft, open expression on Viktor's face. How could Viktor possibly know? He could not. Yet here he is, offering Yuuri a dance, a solitude to share.

Yuuri reaches out to take Viktor's hand, and Viktor draws their hands upwards together, stepping closer to Yuuri and pressing a warm hand to Yuuri's back. Then they begin to dance.

Yuuri dares not look away from him as they move together, feeling the music between them as if it were real and not merely in their minds. The music is not a melody to hear, but a song between hearts, shaping the dance and giving it life. Viktor's hesitation, Yuuri's fear, Viktor's desire, Yuuri's anxiety, Viktor's guilt, Yuuri's forgiveness -- they come together and become more.

Joy. Life. Love. Where Viktor is awed by Yuuri's grace, Yuuri is overjoyed by Viktor's support. Where their feet step in time together, their bodies move in sync, neither truly leading and neither truly following. Dancing is meant for two, not one and the person who follows them, after all.

They dance, and they dance, and Yuuri has never felt so free. If he is Rusalka, and Viktor his Prince, then Yuuri wishes to dance forever with him, to nurture a love that no human or crane could ever hope to create. He finds himself smiling, laughing as Viktor dances with him, and Viktor returns the sweet expressions, worship in his eyes as he gazes upon Yuuri.

Soon they grow tired, their lively dance drawing to a close. Yuuri finds himself pressed close to Viktor, gently swaying, their bare feet touching just so, close enough to share warmth. He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Viktor's cheek, wanting to spend forever with him like this.

Yet soon Viktor draws away, and Yuuri looks up at him, his cheeks flushing at the expression on Viktor's face. He tilts his head up slightly, and Viktor's gaze drops briefly to his lips, darkening with desire before he shakes his head, as if to clear himself of the distraction. Yuuri barely resists a frown.

He wanted a kiss. His face floods red a moment later as the thought catches up to him. Viktor smiles brightly at him, his own cheeks flushed from their dance.

"Yuuri," Viktor says in a hush, his eyes alight with determination, "be my prima danseur. Dance for me in tomorrow's opera."

Yuuri blinks a few times, drawing back in confusion. All thoughts of kissing flee his mind. "What? But..."

Viktor captures his hands and refuses to let him go. "You are more than perfect," Viktor tells him, excitedly spinning Yuuri around in a mockery of the dance they just shared. "The music in your body, the movements you make... please. Please, Yuuri! For me! I want to see you on this stage, showing everyone this beautiful dance. You deserve to be admired by every person in the world!"

_But this dance was meant for you,_ Yuuri does not say. His heart aches sharply for a moment, fearing rejection, but he thinks through Viktor's invitation and sees no lie. No reason to deny him, to refuse to dance as he has always wanted. Perhaps this dance was for them; and it was, despite Yuuri's fear that Viktor does not return his feelings. But other dances... surely, Yuuri could show the world what he can do.

What dance truly can be. Yet... he wonders if he should tell Viktor, after all.

"A dance between cranes..."

Viktor gasps softly at the mention of cranes, leaning forward as if to drink in Yuuri's words. He always seems so interested when Yuuri mentions his homeland. "Yes?"

Yuuri shakes his mind, abruptly deciding not to share the truth. A human cannot understand what it means, after all -- and Viktor is only human.

"Never mind. If that is what you wish... I will dance for you, Viktor."

**Author's Note:**

> For those interested, Yuuri is a [red crowned crane](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red-crowned_crane)!
> 
> A huge thank you to Meri and James for betaing 💙💙💙
> 
> Let me know what you think! (*´♡`*)


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